


A Summer's Day

by MsJones



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Cute, Family, Father and son bonding, Fluff, Gen, I Blame Tumblr, Modern AU, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-09 11:08:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1980657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsJones/pseuds/MsJones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by <a href="http://mongoliantiger.tumblr.com/post/92093721149/modern-au-and-its-summer-and-haytham-brought">another post</a> from Mongoliantiger on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Summer's Day

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from Assassin’s Creed or any relevant characters, which remain the property of Ubisoft.

It was the hottest day of the year so far, and the local park was buzzing. The only time Haytham had seen it so full was when it was covered in snow. Connor had loved going down the slopes on his little blue sled on those few days before Christmas, but for now, the hill was covered in lush green grass through which a few bunches of daffodils and tulips had sprung.

Haytham wiped his brow as he watched Connor play on the swing set, glad Ziio was at work. She would have had a heart attack seeing Connor the way Connor stood upon the swing, leaning way back to get himself to swing higher and higher. He watched his son carefully, half preparing himself to run over and comfort him should he fall. However, Connor allowed himself to slow to a stop, and slid off the swing, onto the floor. Inwardly, Haytham breathed a sigh of relief as Connor came to join him on the bench.

“Hello, champ,” he said, ruffling Connor’s hair, as the young lad grabbed his water bottle and took a long swig. He gasped. “It sure is hot today,” he said. “I am so glad I wore shorts.” He fanned himself with his hand. “Phew!”

Connor seemed distracted, and Haytham noticed he was watching a tall, well-built man, wearing tight-fitting clothes, strut purposefully across the park.

“Grandad’s not bothered about the heat,” Connor observed, watching as the man stopped, stretched, ran his fingers through his hair, and fervently checked his front for some reason. When he was satisfied everything was okay, he continued with his walk. “Can I go see him?” Connor said excitedly. “Can I? Can I? Can I?”

Haytham watched his father cross the grassy field. He seemed focused, so maybe he wasn’t hungover, or drunk, like he usually was, so he agreed. “Come on, then,” he said, standing up and grabbing Connor’s hand, holding tightly.

It wasn’t until he got a little closer to his father that he realised something was amiss. Two girls, no older than eighteen, wandered past, eyeing the older man.

“Oh, my God!” one of them said to the other. “Did you get a look at _that_?”

“Those jeans are positively _sprayed_ on,” said the other, before the pair of them dissolved into giggles.

Edward didn’t fail to notice his admirers. “Hello, ladies,” he said smoothly, following their movements for a time as they went, still laughing hysterically.

Haytham felt very strange. He wasn’t sure whether he was annoyed that two girls were objectifying his father (they were young enough to be his grand-daughters, for Heaven’s sake!), or that the words ‘sprayed on’ seemed to register in his mind. He walked towards Edward, as Connor skipped happily by his father’s side.

“Father!” he called, and Edward stopped, turning to face his son. He was wearing what appeared to be a rugged white shirt, and tight stonewashed jeans, that the girls certainly had not failed to notice.

Edward smiled his dazzling smile. “Hello, boys,” he said, walking towards them. “How’s my favourite grandson?” he asked, crouching down to ruffle Connor’s hair.

“I’m your _only_ grandson, silly!” Connor replied. “Aren’t I, Papa?”

“Quite,” chuckled Haytham nervously, noticing something rather odd about his father’s trousers, The creases made by the bending of his limbs seemed oddly... flaky...

“Father!” he exclaimed in disgust, pulling Connor to him, a hand over the child’s eyes. “Those are... painted on!” He held up his other hand, blocking Edward from his view as he turned his face away.

“What’s going on?” Connor asked, confused.

“We have to go,” Haytham snapped. “Ista will be home soon, she’s making us...” He flailed for the right words, trying not to think that his father was in front of him, for all intents and purposes naked in a public place, but for a pair of trainers. “Pancakes. She’s making us pancakes!” he announced, disgruntled. He led Connor away, leaving Edward standing alone, looking bemused.

“Yay! Pancakes!” Connor exclaimed joyfully, as he dutifully followed his father out of the park, and back home.

* * *

 

“I can’t believe you were _naked_ in the park!” Haytham was still sore when he met a mercifully fully clothed Edward for a drink in The Green Dragon later that evening.

“Not technically,” argued Edward. “I mean, I _was_ wearing shoes.”

“That aside,” Haytham hissed, “you... your... oh, you know... you were still _bare_!” He shook his head. “What if someone had noticed?” he continued to appeal against the idea of wearing nothing but a few layers of body paint in an attempt to beat the heat. “What if it has started raining? Did you think of that?”

Edward let out a roar of laughter. “Rain, boy?” he chuckled. “On a day like today? Are you out of your mind?”

“ _I’m_ not the one who struts around nude in a public park,” Haytham retorted. “There’s only one of us out of their mind, as you so delicately put it.”

“Chill out, will you, Haytham?” he sighed, gulping on a pint of Guinness. “The fact is, no-one noticed.” A dirty smirk crossed his bristly face. “In fact, I got a lot of positive attention.” He winked.

“So I saw,” Haytham sighed, remembering the two, barely-dressed girls from earlier.

“The only downside with it,” Edward conceded, “is the lack of pockets.” He frowned, a thoughtful look in his bright blue eyes.

“Oh, yes,” Haytham agreed. “It was murderous today, without my jacket, wearing a pair of shorts without the luxury of...”

“Nowhere to put the phone numbers that were handed to me!” Edward finished raucously, boisterously clinking his pint glass against Haytham’s half-pint of lager, spilling some over his son’s fingers.

“Good Lord,” Haytham sighed in despair, placing his glass down upon a sodden coaster, a hand to his face.

“You have to admit,” Edward continued, undaunted. “Mary did a splendid job in doing what she did.” He flashed his bright smile.

Haytham looked up with a start. “Mary?” he said shocked. “Mary... Read?” The girl he’d had a crush on through art school had seen his father... naked?

“No need to look so shocked,” Edward sighed. “It was only a bit of fun, a practice for an art show she’s got coming up,” He smiled, watching Haytham process the news that the girl he’d had a thing with, long before he had met Ziio, had been subject to seeing his father nude, although in the name of art it might have been. “Look, nothing happened, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he went on, trying to sound reassuring. “She sees much worse during life-drawing classes.” He blushed a little. “Apparently.”

“I have no doubt,” Haytham said, finally managing a laugh, glad, at least, his old girlfriend was doing well for herself. He even permitted himself a small laugh.

“There, you go, son,” Edward said with a grin. “Loosen up!” He nudged him gently in the upper arm.

A slight smile appeared on Haytham’s lips. “I suppose it was... a little funny,” he conceded. “Listen, how about coming round for lunch on Sunday?”

“Sounds good,” Edward replied, putting an arm around his son’s shoulder. “I should like to get on better with you and your family.” He paused guiltily. “After all these years.”

Haytham’s hand found his father’s back, and he patted him gently. “Water under the bridge,” he said comfortingly, his other hand reaching for his wallet. “How about another drink?” he asked, and Edward beamed.

“Now ye’re talkin’ my language!” he said cheerfully. “Get ‘em in!”


End file.
